Briefly, Follen paused, though he seemed to be considering what she’d said rather than her request. “[color=lightblue]Yes,[/color]” he said thoughtfully. “[color=lightblue]Yes, I think that might be a good idea. Here,[/color] he reached into his desk, retrieving a small key and handing it over. “[color=lightblue]That’s a spare, her number’s printed on it—104. Feel free to hold on to that, so long as you don’t lose it. I’m not too thrilled by the idea of someone else having access.[/color]”

He smiled again, and every bit of that pride was in it. “[color=lightblue]You’re a good girl, Quinn, darling. I’m more and more certain of that every day. Good luck.[/color]”

As Quinn left his office, she could hear the artificial birdsongs chirp to life behind her. 

The walk was long, but not solitary. Nurses and other orderlies shuffled by, busy with this and that, but all who passed Quinn paused long enough to look at her. The wonder was painted clearly on their faces. Wonder at their hero pilot. Wonder at where she was going. The closer she drew to room 104 the less wonder there was, and in its place was concern.

It was within her, too. A slow, low simmer at the bottom of her mind, so wary of rising, but unwilling to stay sunken. [color=black]Careful,[/color] came the warning, not vicious but soft, worried. [color=black]Just…be careful.[/color]

As she stood before the door, the feeling retreated. The anxiety in its wake still rippled the surface of her thoughts, but Quinn pushed through. She fit the key, opened the door and let herself in. 

From after Hovvi, to after the duel, these rooms seemed so clean, so safe, so [i]confining[/i]. The sensation of an IV pushing fluid into her veins shuddered through her. Her neural plugs itched, briefly, like they were still new. No machines beeped, no radio played and the screen on the far wall was off. The ceiling light was off, there was only the dimmed glow of a simulated overcast through the blinds of the faux window, casting the whole room in gray. 

Roaki lay in the bed, covers pulled up to her waist. Her head was turned away, to the window, but it was clear she wasn’t asleep. Her fist wound in the sheets, she took a deep breath. 

“[color=ec008c]What—”[/color] she began, only for her voice to wither when she turned to see Quinn standing there. Her dun eyes widened in their pits, and though her face was shadowed by a tattered veil of hair, panic passed through it, clear and quick, before it settled into a more subdued uneasiness. Her eyes instantly fell away. 

“[color=ec008c]Oh…[/color] she said, raspy and quiet, but at least the shiver was gone. “[color=ec008c]It's you...again.[/color]”

She shifted uncomfortably, like she meant to sit up. Instead, she seemed to just burrow deeper into her pillow. “[color=ec008c]What...why are you...here?[/color]"